Tumnus' Trickery
by elfchicks
Summary: What if Mr. Tumnus HAD delivered Lucy to the White Witch? Chapter seven up.
1. Chapter I

**Tumnus' Trickery**

_Aranel and Morris C. Martin_

Lucy stepped through the doorway of the wardrobe into a world of deep, drifted snow and swirling flakes driven by a chilling north wind. Shivering, she quickly stepped back into the relative warmth of the mansion's wardrobe and selected a scarf, fur coat, stocking cap, earmuffs, and fur-lined boots (which were a little big on her). While donning the apparel, she glanced once more at the dark world outside, then again exited the security of the house.

The small girl felt snowflakes stinging her cheeks as she moved forward tentatively, inhaling the icy air, and exhaling wisps of her own warm breath. The clear, crisp scent of snow-covered fir and aspen created for Lucy an image of stern beauty. Before her, a dense forest of stately evergreens unfolded, each burdened by a thick robe of fresh snow.

Approaching a clearing only dimly visible in the darkening mist, Lucy immediately became aware of a soft, yellow glow. At first, she wasn't certain from whence the light came, but it soon became apparent. A tall, archaic lamppost stood in the very center of the clearing, driving away a measure of the surrounding darkness.

A slender, dark-clad figure was leaning against the post, seemingly tranquil and unaffected by the wind and cold. He was watching her approach in an apparently unconcerned manner. Lucy approached him cautiously.

"Do you know where I am?" she inquired. The stranger's eyes brightened slightly, and in a crisp voice he replied, "The land of Narnia, of course!"

"Narnia? Where's that?"

"Right here, where we stand!" the stranger replied with enthusiasm. He studied her shortly, and then nodded to himself. As if to make certain, however, he asked, "You are a daughter of Eve? Human, I mean?" Lucy stared at him blankly.

"Do you have a name?" he asked, finally.

"I'm Lucy," she replied. "I don't think there is any explanation for all this. I do know quite well that there isn't a forest behind the mansion!"

The stranger looked at her, perplexed.

"Mansion?" he asked. "What mansion?" Then, quietly to himself, "No matter. You'll soon be seeing a castle." The slim figure clicked his heels together abruptly, standing at his full height. Lucy thought his feet strangely shaped. In the dim lamp light, they seemed to resemble hooves. He also appeared to be wearing odd, furry trousers! (And, she wondered, "Were those horns protruding from beneath the rim of his fur hat?") All three thoughts struck her simultaneously, and she gasped at the sudden realization.

"Who…what's your name?" she stammered, amazed.

"Tumnus," the stranger said with a chuckle, noting her astonished expression. "I am a faun." He removed his hat and bowed with a flourish before returning it to cover an unruly shock of curly hair.

"You…you're…a what?"

"A faun," said Tumnus coolly. "You must be new here. I'd be glad to show you around, if you'd like."

"Well…" Lucy hesitated pensively. "I suppose a quick excursion couldn't hurt. As long as I'm back before too long." Tumnus extended his hand and she took it. Then, the faun reached down, picked up two wrapped packages from where they had been sitting in the snow, and tucked them under his free arm.

"What are those?" Lucy asked curiously, as they moved away from the clearing.

"Packages for Her Royal Highness," replied her new guide. They went along surprisingly swiftly through (or over) the deep drifts. The faun seemed to leave no tracks in the snow, and, at his touch, the small girl seemed almost to glide over the soft surface as well. Any indentations that were made were quickly filled in with fresh snow.

"This queen, or whatever she is," said Lucy presently, "who is she?"

"She is a hard task-mistress," replied the faun quietly (somewhat ruefully). "I hope these packages temporarily take her mind off of troubling me!"

"Hm…" said Lucy thoughtfully. "I…where are we going?"

"Just a short walk," replied Tumnus. "I want you to see another part of Narnia." Little did Lucy know the peril she was unwittingly being escorted into.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

A/N: Chapter two is finally up. Read and review! Any and all comments are welcome. Thank-you!

Tumnus and Lucy seemed to be proceeding at a leisurely pace through the drifts and between the trees, but a glance to either side revealed the forest moving by rapidly. Soon, the small girl became aware of a glow now appearing in the distance before them. The glow grew in intensity as they approached and then began to divide into several sources of light. Presently, moving smoothly around an enormous fir, the duo stepped into the courtyard of a gargantuan stone structure towering above them, its huge multi-paned windows defiantly aglow against the starless night. Stately marble columns pressed up into a low hanging mist, into what appeared to be spires disappearing upward into the haze.

As Lucy's wide eyes lowered once again to the courtyard, she saw that strange, motionless figures had begun to appear out of the fog. Extremely lifelike, but as still as death, they stood with their faces contorted in expressions of fear, surprise, or horror. As the pair walked slowly past them, Lucy identified Centaurs, Dwarves, Gryphons, and many others, all as solid as stone. She realized that they were only statues, but her fear still did not subside. She knew there was something wrong.

Tumnus led Lucy up a flight of broad steps brushed clean of snow, then across a wide portico, where they stopped before an immense oaken door. Its varnished trim and gold filigree glimmered in the diffuse light reflected off the snow.

The small girl heard her guide gently sigh, as though a bit apprehensive. Then, she watched him step resolutely to the door, grasp a heavy iron wolf's head, then release it, so that it clanged solidly against a metal plate.

They waited. Just as the faun began to reach once more for the doorknocker, slow, heavy, hoof-like steps were heard within. Two bolts clanged and the ponderous door swung slowly inward. An immense Minotaur peered out at the two.

"You're late, Tumnus. And who's this?" The Minotaur spoke slowly and ominously, examining Lucy with some curiosity, its huge head tilted toward her, its eyes glowing a dull yellow.

"I'm sorry, Chailoghdan!" Tumnus replied nervously. "But, I have some presents for Her Royal Highness!" The monster sniffed at Tumnus' humble gesture, unimpressed by the small packages the faun carried. Quickly reconsidering, Tumnus gave a slight nod to his left. Chailoghdan's massive head slowly swung to the right.

"This?" he growled. Tumnus nodded, almost sorrowfully. The Minotaur stepped heavily aside, drawing the enormous gate open.

No warmth greeted them when they stepped into the inner citadel. A shining marble floor reflected the cold bluish light of dim, ice-cut chandeliers high overhead.

Lucy shivered, surprised at the blatant iciness of the room.

Chailoghdan slowly turned, reached high up on a wall, and grasped a torch, which burned with seemingly cold flame. The torch flared briefly as he brought it down before his hideous face, its light revealing a dim corridor leading out of the large entrance hall. The Minotaur shuffled down the passageway, briefly glancing back to see that the two smaller figures were following behind.

Lucy was terrified. She had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be returning home any time soon—or ever for that matter. A small tear of fear trickled slowly down her cheek. She didn't brush it away.

At intervals along the walls, torches glowed dimly. The hallway seemed longer than what the outside of the palace might be expected to accommodate, but presently, another larger oaken door loomed before them. The Minotaur touched a gnarled knuckle to the wood in a clumsy attempt to knock softly.

Bang! Bang!

He stepped back, his hand on his mouth.

A shrill, imperious female voice responded from within, "Who is it?"

The monster slowly pulled the door open to reveal a capacious, high-ceilinged room. Far across a white expanse of gleaming marble, a dais rose against the opposite wall. It was topped by an alabaster throne on which sat, straight and rigid, a figure clad in a full-length white gown under a long pallid mantle made entirely of fox fur. On her head was a tall, jagged crown, which seemed to be composed completely of ice. Her blue-gray eyes gazed coldly across and down.

"Well, Tumnus, what do you have?" she questioned grimly.


	3. Chapter III

A/N: Finally up. I'm terribly sorry I've taken so long, but I've been rather occupied lately with school. I also apologize that the chapters are so short. Perhaps I can remedy that later. Enjoy!

Chapter III

Slowly, expectantly, the imposing woman regarded Tumnus. The faun seemed to tremble, and then stepped heartily aside to reveal the tiny girl.

"Here…here is one of the Humans Your Majesty wished me to watch for."

"Ah!" chortled their host, rising from her seat to her full height. "A Daughter of Eve!" Her voice echoed terribly throughout the large room.

Lucy shuddered under the woman's cold gaze. She felt like an insect under observation.

Presently, the gaze shifted to Lucy's hoofed escort.

"What is the meaning of this?" the queen said in alarm, more to herself (it seemed) than to Tumnus.

"I—I don't know where she came from," the faun answered quickly. "I heard a footstep, looked about, and suddenly she was standing there under the lamppost."

"You are certain there was only one?" the queen demanded, quickly stepping down from the dais.

"Yes…I believe so, Your Highness."

Silence fell, as the queen seemed to weigh her options. Then, in a much different, almost friendly, sort of voice, she spoke.

"Chailoghdan, take the dear child out into the hall for a moment. Tumnus, we must speak." Chailoghdan seized Lucy's arm to lead her out.

"And Chailoghdan," said the queen pleasantly, "pray be gentle with the dear girl." Lucy followed him quietly with some trepidation. They stepped into the outer chill and walked a few paces into the gloom. The Minotaur indicated a large, stone bench against the sidewall, and Lucy sat on it. Her escort sat heavily down on a larger bench, but did not look at her. In the flicker of the overhead torch on the wall, Lucy noted that he slowly nodded his head and closed his eyes. His enormous chest began to rise and fall peacefully, his breath relaxed somewhat. His harsh features were not softened by any amount of relaxation, the flame illuminating them in a startling light, though the respite from seeing his alarming yellow eyes was a relief for Lucy. She pulled her coat around her neck for warmth and watched her huge guardian. Thoughts of possible escape briefly entered her mind, but then the question, "How would I get out?" seemed to have no answer. She blinked nervously, glancing furtively from side to side, but thought of no immediate course of action.

Several minutes later, there was a resounding clang down the hallway. The Minotaur awoke with a snort.

"Chailoghdan!"

The monster grunted as he rose heavily to his feet, quickly looked at Lucy, and pointed a gnarly finger back down the passageway. Lucy quickly came to her feet and began moving back in the direction they had come. Soon, both entered the sparkling light of the throne room.

The queen greeted them.

"The faun, Tumnus, had business to attend to," she said coolly. "He'll be back for you, presently." Lucy shuddered, for there was a faun statue in the far corner that immensely resembled Mr. Tumnus. She saw that the stone face was contorted in a grimace of torment and distress and stiffened warily. Something really was not right here! The queen noticed where Lucy was looking and smiled.

"The statue?" she questioned.

Lucy nodded.

"Ah," said the queen. "What can I say? I have strange taste in décor."

"But—it looks like Mr. Tumnus!" blurted Lucy plaintively.

"Fauns do all look very much alike, dear."

"Oh."

"Come," said the queen, extending a long, slender, well-manicured hand to Lucy. The little girl stared at it long, but then decided it would be fatal to refuse. Hesitantly, she took it. The queen smiled warmly and led Lucy to the intricately designed alabaster throne. She sat on a beautiful fox-fur mantle that covered the seat and gently lifted Lucy onto her lap.

"What is your name, child?" inquired the queen, wrapping a corner of the fur mantle around the shivering girl.

"L—Lucy."

"Lucy, how did you get here to Narnia—to my kingdom?"

"I—I don't know," said Lucy.

This horrid queen wasn't going to get any more out of her. Lucy may have been young, but she wasn't, by any means, stupid or gullible. That statue _was _Mr. Tumnus. She knew it.

"Perhaps you don't trust me?" said the queen searchingly (and her blue-gray eyes flashed). Lucy didn't answer.


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

"Chailoghdan! Fetch Ginnarbrik and tell him to bring my flask. Lucy is cold."

"Yes, your eminence."

Lucy _had _been shivering earlier—not because she was cold—but because she was afraid. Apparently, the queen took the other assumption.

Naturally, not trusting her in the least, Lucy assumed the hot drink that the queen had produced with a drop of sparkling liquid from her carafe was some sort of poison—or perhaps a magical potion to weaken her resolve. But to refuse to drink? She hesitantly took it and carefully pretended to sip from it. She hoped that the perceptive queen wouldn't notice that the contents of the drink never diminished.

"There—" said the queen softly. "Feel better now?"

"Much better," said Lucy, with a small smile. Thereafter, she tried very hard not to look at the statue in the corner and his sad eyes.

"So—how many brothers and sisters have you?" inquired the queen in such a sweet, caring voice that Lucy almost answered without asking herself if there were any other reasons the woman wanted to know besides genuine interest. She tried to imagine what Peter or Susan would do in such a circumstance. Lucy hated to lie—it was so contrary to her nature—but she didn't know what else she could do. She had to protect her family.

"Uh…just one, your majesty. My older brother, Edgar." The queen appeared relieved. Then, she had misgivings.

"Are you certain? There are just the two of you? You and your brother?"

"Yes, your majesty!"

The queen seemed to have relinquished her kind and gentle façade. She now knew what she wanted most to know.

Unfortunately for Lucy, in this case, it may have been better for her if she had told the truth. If she had, the queen might have attempted to seduce her by other means and then release her in hopes of Lucy returning with her three siblings, Peter, Susan, and Edmund—something she _never_ would have done. Now, however, there was no reason at all for her not to be rid of Lucy, since the queen obviously had nothing to fear from the prophesy of four thrones at Cair Paravel with only two humans to manage—and one of them already in her clutches.

She shoved Lucy off her lap (Lucy much relieved by this) and stood, stepping down from the dais without delay, and halfway across the glistening marble floor. She drew a deep breath of relief, shutting her eyes momentarily, and released it with slow deliberation. The wisps of warm mist she exhaled from her nostrils as if she was a proud stallion—self-assured, strong, wholly empowered even! The queen raised her eyes to the ice-cut chandelier on the ceiling and began to laugh darkly.

"You see, Aslan!" she cried in triumph. "You see! Your every plan has failed. None disloyal to me remain! Narnia is _mine_, and forevermore shall be! I challenge you—I do challenge _even_ you—to hinder me! To keep me from ruling—not as an immortal queen, no, but a _goddess_—to the end of time!"

However assured she may have seemed at this point, it was clear that her confidence, though bolstered by this turn of events, was still not fully confirmed. She was glad, _elated_ even, that she had caught this soon enough. It had been vexing her of late—she knew it was time to take care of it once and for all. She knew what she would do.

The queen turned—

"Ginnarbrik! Kindly bid Maugrim, Otmin, Zatinpé, and Orieus come! And hurry about it!"

"Yes, O queen!"

A few minutes later, a vicious, dark-furred wolf, a ferocious-looking Minotaur (who made Chailoghdan appear, in comparison, like a feeble, old bull), a long-tusked Minoboar, and a fair, but fierce centaur entered.

Lucy shrank back in fear, dropping the drink (which, upon impact with the marble floor, transformed into a pile of snow). The queen began barking orders almost immediately.

"Maugrim!" she said, now donning her elegant battle-gear. "Gather _all_ your wolves—I want you to search every dwelling within ten leagues of my palace. I don't care how long it takes. You are to search for _humans_. If anyone resists you, kill them speedily. If you find any humans, bring them to me alive. Now, go!"

The wolf snarled his compliance, eyed Lucy warily, then turned and rushed out the door.

"Otmin, Zatinpé! Assemble one-hundred or so of your elite warriors. I want them ready to depart within the hour. To your tasks!" The minotaur and minoboar showed their obeisance and departed swiftly.

"Centaur—you have the pleasant task of guarding the puny human creature. I certainly hope you can handle it, because I expect you know what will happen if you fail. I dislike your race—that is no secret—(too aesthetically pleasing, for one thing) but perhaps you can prove yourself loyal one day and I can reconsider. Now, to it, at once!" The centaur bowed and accepted his duty.

"Ginnarbrik," the queen said finally, "prepare my snow-chariot."

Ginnarbrik egressed hastily.

While the queen finished adjusting her headpiece, Orieus ordered Lucy to sit as he held his immense sword in readiness over her. Even though Lucy was terribly frightened, she couldn't help but notice the beautifully glossy, chestnut sides of the centaur and his long auburn tail that swished every now and again in the tedium.

Finally, the evil queen deemed herself ready to depart. Her authoritative glance moved from Lucy to the centaur.

"I'll send a servant when I require the creature's presence," she said callously, sending her malice-filled glance to Lucy. With that, she turned swiftly and passed through the doorway, only to turn once more and slam the great doors with a resounding crash.

_To Be Continued…_


	5. Chapter V

_A/N: Terribly sorry about the long wait – I've been so busy with other stories, etc. Enjoy! _

Chapter V

The Queen of Narnia was pacing back and forth in her private chambers.

From the lofty ceiling hung four smaller chandeliers, whose icy glare revealed a room of harsh whiteness, its walls festooned with lavish, ice blue draperies. The far wall had a large multi-paned window with dark blue curtains on either side. On another wall, a large fireplace separated a section of the draperies. Dry, unburned wood lay on the spotless grate. The queen's massive bed stood in Gothic splendor against the third wall, beneath a canopy of rich blue gossamer. Its elaborate trappings, which included cushions of imperial grandeur and a richly embroidered sheer white coverlet, suggested an object of imposition rather than of invitation. On either side of it were ornate bed stands, each crowned by a crystal candleholder containing a tall, tapered candle—unused.

As she paced, the loud tap of the queen's footsteps echoed throughout the room. Above one of the bed stands, a silken rope hung from a silver-ringed opening in the ceiling. The queen paused, glanced over at the rope, turned, and strode purposefully toward it. She took the golden handle of the bell-rope, and gave it one firm pull. In less than a minute, there was a soft knock on her door.

"Open," she said distinctly.

The bolt rattled softly, and the door swung inward. The gnarled dwarf stood silently, beholding his ruler with a look of humble expectancy.

"My snow chariot?"

"Ready, your highness!" The dwarf lowered his eyes, turned briskly, and disappeared down the dimly lit corridor, closely followed by the queen. The icy lights brightened and the ceiling arched upward as they approached the throne room. The queen firmly gripped the handle of the large double door. She tugged impatiently, then grimaced upon realizing it was bolted.

The dwarf grunted in confusion, concerned that the queen's anger could fall upon him.

"Fool! Go around!" she hissed at him. "And take my wand."

The dwarf hurried without a word to do her bidding, disappearing down a side passage leading to the imperial courtyard.

The queen paced rapidly back and forth, murmuring to herself. Eventually, she heard a click and turned on her heel in time to observe the huge door moving slowly outward. Ginnarbrik pushed the door open as far as he could, then pressed his rotund body against it to allow the fuming empress access. She rushed by, soon joined by the dwarf, pulling the door closed with a heavy clank. Ginnarbrik returned her wand.

"Traitorous centaur!" the queen snarled. "To the chariot! We will find them."

"Your Majesty!" the dwarf protested. "We'll never overtake them! Centaurs are far swifter than bears or reindeer!"

"We will find them if it takes a thousand years. We will search every inch of this wretched country! Do I not have my spies to bring me word?"

"But, Excellency, please! You know where Orieus will take her! Out of Narnia - to Archenland or Colormene! We cannot—"

"Ah, but you underestimate me, dwarf. We will find some pretext for following them if need be. Or – we will offer their harborers a choice. They will surrender the fugitives, or their entire nation will fall to me. And—" the queen smiled fiendishly, "—what will stop me from destroying them afterwards? Who will prevent me from ruling the world? I have before." She paused in reflection. "Ah, Ginnarbrik, your first objection gives me an idea. You say bears and reindeer cannot catch a centaur. Well, you are right. But cannot a stag catch another stag, or a horse another horse? We shall send another party of loyal Centaurs after them. They are swift, and adept at tracking, I have heard. See to it, and then meet me at the chariot."

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Lucy shook off the snowflakes that had settled on her head and shoulders. It was so penetratingly and unpleasantly cold, it chilled her to the core. Her frozen brown hair whipped wildly in the howling bitterness of the wind. The whirling snowflakes stung her cheek harshly and froze on her eyelashes. And to make matters worse, she had lost her stocking cap in the wind. Orieus had instructed her to keep her hands tightly around his middle, lest she fall off, but they were so cold she didn't know how much longer she could hold on. She kept her head down, trying to keep breathing, though it was hard.

Orieus was on the right side, once more. His true allegiance, he said, was to Aslan, and the real Narnia – not the witch's perverted vision of Narnia: a frozen dominion where all obey a tyrant's evil will. As such, he was going to do all in his power to save his true queen, Lucy's, life, but he didn't know how much of a chance they had.

Earlier, Lucy had asked why the centaur couldn't just take her back to the Wardrobe. He told her that the witch had ordered at least a thousand creatures to comb the area surrounding the lamppost and there would be no possible way to get through. Their only option was to flee Narnia.

Lucy loathed inhaling the icy air inside her chilled body, to chill it further. Finally, she could stand it no more. "O-Orieus!" she rasped, and the words were nearly lost to the wind.

But the centaur heard and understood. He brought himself to an abrupt, but decidedly gentle stop, catching Lucy just as she began to fall. He realized that she was succumbing. They had to find shelter; they were nowhere near the border of Archenland, and night was already well established. There was nothing to be done but the most lamentable. They would have to halt until Lucy was warmed. Orieus stepped forward, looking for a suitable tree. Nearby was a broad-branched evergreen, its benevolent branches offering some shelter from the intensity of the storm. Once they had reached it, the centaur cleared away a measure of the snow near the base of the tree and tenderly placed her on the cleared spot. Then, he lay down beside her, hoping his chestnut sides would offer her extra warmth.

The snow crystals along the ground slithered in endless serpentine formations, hissing, gliding to cover the tracks from sight. The world of white grew whiter still, as veritable piles of whiteness cascaded from the heavens, blanketing the fugitives from view and rendering the trail for any nearby wolves cold. Soon, the darkness set in, hoping to veil them further from unfriendly eyes.

"Oh, Aslan. Protect her from the witch's winter. Do not let her give in."

————————————

The enormous wolf pack raised a cloud of snow and mist as they spread out over the dusky, wintry landscape. Soon, the center of the pack sighted a woodman's hut in the distance. Six of the burly creatures broke forward and arrived at the unprotected shelter, breathing hard and growling in savage anticipation. They quickly circled, and sniffed along each wall, searching for windows and doorways. The windows were small, and the door in front the only access. Maugrim pounced up on the doorstep and gave a howl of challenge. His huge mouth closed over the door handle and bit, in an attempt to unlatch it. It would not budge. With a guttural yelp of frustration, he turned and motioned for Vardan, his second in command, to come and break the door in. Then, a heavy brute, eyes glowing green, licked his chops and charged. His heavy front paws smashed against the upper part of the door, causing it to bend inward. Leaping agilely to one side, he allowed a third wolf to drive its paws violently through the upper panel. The door, now hanging by a single hinge, was immediately driven inward and flattened to the earthen floor by a fourth wolf's assault. Maugrim immediately entered, looking from side to side in the extremely dim light admitted by the open door and narrow windows. The emptiness of the long-abandoned structure elicited a dull grunt from the leader, who bounded quickly out the doorway to lead his immediate followers in pursuit of the pack.

Ingmar Gruffin, a young wolf, running smoothly along the pack's right flank, glanced briefly to one side and glimpsed a red object caught in a barren bush. With a gruff bark, he signaled to the nearby wolves before shearing off laterally. He quickly reached the bush and jumped up high to grasp the object in his teeth. It proved a long stocking cap—and it smelled strongly of Humans. Ingmar growled ominously and moved swiftly back to the pack. Maugrim took one look at the long, red object streaming from Ingmar's jaw as he loped along beside him, gave a bark of surprise and came to an abrupt halt, impelling the rest of the pack to collide with each other in sudden upheaval. Sniffing and snarling at the cap, the lead beasts discussed the situation.

"This belonged to the little interloper," Maugrim growled assertively. "Good find, Ingmar."

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched squawk, similar to that of a bird of prey, and then a flurry of bat-like wings. The wolves looked up, surprised.

A pair of Harpies had arrived. "The she-human has escaped!" panted one with a crackly sort of voice, endeavoring to land in the deep snow. "And—the centaur, Orieus, taken her!"

The wolf pack growled viciously.

"The queen orders you to make for the borders of Archenland as swiftly as you may, and scour the area. They must be found!"

Maugrim's chilling howl rose, as the snow-clouds obscured the moon. "You heard the Harpy! Haste! Smell them out!"

_To Be Continued… _


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry for the wait. I hope it's mildly entertaining. _

Lucy's large brown eyes opened on a world of barren whiteness. Except for the faint shadows of a few far-off snow-laden trees and outstanding snow clumps, there was nothing but white in the landscape as far as they could see.

The blizzard that had lasted through most of the night had given way to complete calm by the morning, but the clouds remained low and menacing. It was astonishingly dark, though clearly day.

Orieus laboriously stood, shaking the snow off his back. His winter coat of fur and hot horse blood were usually enough to keep him warm, but the night before's weather, doubtless sent by the queen in order to hinder their progress, had nearly been the death of him. If he had not had such a pressing reason for staying alive…he wasn't sure. Lucy proved exceedingly resilient, however. She had recovered splendidly. Orieus saw no reason why they couldn't continue their flight. "But we must be careful," he cautioned. "Though our trail is cold, we will be completely obvious if anyone spots us – even from a great distance away."

Lucy found her feet. She was glad that she had dressed warmly on her foray into Narnia, though she now extremely regretted having come at all. She shivered involuntarily as her breath emerged in a wisp of mist.

Orieus stamped. "Come, my queen. We must hurry."

Lucy felt as though an icy shadow lay on her heart. Would she ever get home again? If she did manage to escape from Narnia, what then? There was no way back. "Why does the queen want to kill me?" she finally asked, dolefully.

"Because she is a tyrant and pretender to the throne and fears deposal by the true sovereigns. But no more time for questions, I'm afraid. I don't think we are safe here." Orieus knelt down so Lucy could mount. "Now, I am not certain of our exact location, but—"

"Where are we heading? You said something about Archenland?"

"Not to Archenland in due course, no," replied Orieus, testing the slickness of the compacted snow beneath the fresh snow with his hand. After judging it to his satisfaction, he stood up. "I will not endanger them. Colormen and the lands beyond are our only hope for escaping the witch. Now, traversing the pass into Archenland, that way—" he indicated a range of snowcapped mountains far beyond that Lucy had not noticed before. "—will be dangerous, but I'm afraid there is no other path that would avail us. If we are fortunate, we will be in Archenland by sunset."

Orieus gradually broke into a smooth canter. There was no way to cover up the signs that they had spent the night there, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. The scent would remain unless it began to storm again and the wind scattered it. Lucy held on tightly as they steadily neared the foothills.

They had gone on for some time, as quietly as possible, when Orieus suddenly stopped.

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A small but dense grove of snow-covered cedar saplings stood in the shade of a hillock. Behind, concealed in the shadow, Lucy sat on Orieus' back. The centaur listened intently for the sounds he had heard earlier – a snarling and scuffling, very faint and far off. At length, he said, "There is someone coming."

"What do you think it is?"

"Whatever it is, there's more than one. Keep silent."

At length, Orieus peered around the furthest sapling, then quickly darted back behind. "Centaurs," he whispered. "Five or six. I can't see them well enough to tell who they are." He sighed. "They're following my tracks. We have to make a run for it. Hold tight." He drew a deep breath, a determined gleam in his eyes, and shot off at a crisp gallop over the hill, throwing up a shower of snow in his wake. He didn't glance behind, but he knew that the other centaurs had marked them and were giving chase.

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"Your Highness," the frozen-haired wolf panted gruffly at the canvas door of the ornate blue and white pavilion.

Rising from where she had been reclining on her mink fur-upholstered divan, the queen silently stole across the pavilion and threw open the door. "Vardan. What news?" she asked coldly, fingering the silver handle of her wand.

"Well, Excellency," began Vardan, grappling for words. He shuddered and looked behind him, then looked back. "To tell you the truth…. We…our wolf-pack…. We were attacked."

"By whom?" The queen's grip on her wand tightened and her expression hardened.

"A—a party of centaurs, Your Worshipful Majesty."

"A party of centaurs? Who?"

"There were perhaps fifteen, My Queen. Andore and Naron were among them."

The witch narrowed her eyes. "The very centaurs I sent out," she said distantly, but with veiled disdain and rage.

"We fought well, but they—"

The witch cut him to the point. "How many wolves does Maugrim have yet?"

"Well, Majesty…." The wolf trembled noticeably. "He…he was…. Maugrim is no more. I alone escaped from the slaughter to tell you."

The queen cursed, instinctively raising her wand toward Vardan. After a moment, however, she thought better of it. She had another use for him in mind.

Vardan was visibly relieved.

"Now, wolf-scum," the witch snarled, "your next task bears the weight of your life. If you fail in carrying out its completion, you know the consequence. You are to make haste to the castle. Enter quietly and call all the remaining Minotaurs together. Give them the following orders from their queen: they are to kill every centaur in my employ. Go."

Vardan kicked up a powder of snow in his haste to leave.


	7. Chapter VII

_Seven_

The Colormene prince had never seen Queen Jadis before. When his armed entourage met hers, he was visibly astonished. Jadis was over seven feet tall, her figure deceptively slender, but with a veiled strength. Her face was well-defined with high cheekbones and long-lashed blue-grey eyes. Her lips carried a regal curvature. The queen's hair was a lustrous, shining ebony, flowing free over her shoulders and upturning slightly at the ends. Her fingers were long and pale, beautifully shaped. 

The prince bowed deferentially, shaking, and came up again anxiously licking his lips. She was clearly the loveliest woman he had ever seen. 

Jadis stared patronizingly. "Prince Azerion."

"I meet you on behalf of my father, the Tisroc (May he live forever). You…you are as beautiful as a goddess." 

"Do not waste my time with flattery."

"Oh, Your Highness, I sincerely meant it." 

One look at his shocked face at being taken for a flatterer was enough for Jadis. "Sincere or no, I do not believe I called this assembly to receive your approval on my looks."

Prince Azerion's eyes went down to the snow. 

"Now," continued the queen, "why I _did_ call this assembly. You see, we have two fugitives on the run from justice, a renegade centaur and a small human child — a girl. I have reason to believe that they will enter your father's realm eventually (if they have not already), and so escape oversea. This must be prevented at all costs. Do you understand?"

"Ah…your majesty. If I may?" 

"What?" Jadis wanted him to know he was being indulged. Only tolerated.

"A little girl? How could she have fallen foul of you at her age?" The prince knew it was a mistake to ask the moment the words left his mouth. 

The queen drew herself up, giving him the full of her piercing eyes. This again sent the prince's gaze to the ground. 

"That is none of your concern, insolent prince," Jadis said icily. "Suffice it to say that when she has entered Colormen, if she and her protector are not brought to me in chains before a fortnight has passed, it will bode very ill for you and your people." 

The prince swallowed, visibly shaken, and turned to one of his higher ranking soldiers. They conversed a moment in hushed tones. The guard seemed rather upset. Finally the prince turned back to Jadis, whose eyes betrayed that she had taken the wait very badly. "Permit me one more question, milady." The queen tacitly gave her begrudged consent. "The Archenlandish seaports. Might they attempt to escape by them before fleeing to Colormen's?" The prince again saw his mistake too late.

"The Archenlandish ports? Do you dare to think me such an idiot as to neglect something that obvious? They have already been razed! Every ship anchored is now at the bottom of the sea. Without bothering to declare war I have subdued a nation, however small it was. It was very easy, prince, so very easy. They brought everything they had against me and it crumbled within a day. The same will happen to your land should you disregard my orders." 

A chill ran down Prince Azerion's spine. He felt a brief inclination to fall to his knees before the queen and beg for mercy, while at the same time an urge to draw a sword and scream, "How dare you!" Neither seemed fitting at the moment, so he withheld. After a long silence, he finally met eyes with the queen and said, "To hear is to obey, Highness. Colormen will do what it can."

"So be it. And let the consequences of your failure serve as your incentive. Now go." Jadis did not move until the prince and his entourage had remounted and were well out of sight, racing madly back over the border, richly colored banners snapping wildly in the wind. For while the prince had never been a man of much courage, being threatened like that had struck a chord. While he agreed to her face, he wasn't certain that they _could_ find these renegade Narnians. And if they could not…well, they had to be prepared. One thing was for sure — they wouldn't go down without a fight.

* * *

"Orieus!" called a voice loudly over the wind. "Orieus, hold! We mean you no harm."

Orieus did not slow. He knew he could trust no one, not even a fellow centaur. 

The thundering of heavy centaur hoofbeats shook the ground and sent snow flying far behind in the asperity of the wind. Orieus ascended the roughly hewn, slushy trail up to the crest of a hillock. When he had reached it, he did not slow. He didn't have time. Taking a sharp left, he careered over the side and down the path through the trees. Lucy held tight as the centaur gathered all his strength and leapt across a broad stream in the valley and headed straight up the side of the next hill. It wasn't long before the snow on the ground had thinned. Orieus' hooves struck mud and sent great chunks flying out behind. The relentless, trailing hoofbeats at times neared and at times faded. The muck was terrible for gaining footing, and many a time, Orieus slipped and just barely found his balance. Finally, they reached the summit of the path leading up the side of the pass, which wound around the side of the rugged cliffs on the left, treacherous and narrow. Lucy gaped in fear, but Orieus only paused a moment before galloping onwards… Water from melting snow trickled down the side of the ledge in various rivulets, collecting in the basin below. Orieus reached the bottom, cleared the stream, and shot on up towards the stony trail, his flanks covered in foam from his exertion. 

Lucy looked back. The pursuing centaurs had reached the crest of the hill behind and, marking them, quickly plunged over down towards the stream. Gaining her first good look at them, Lucy noticed that they were all similarly dressed to Orieus and bore weapons of like make. "They're gaining," she whispered. She wasn't sure whether she was talking to Orieus or herself.

The steep acclivity of the cliff-side path hindered all concerned parties. Orieus was going all out, severely taxing his endurance and will. His breathing was ragged and quick; his sides heaved. His hooves gripped best they could the falling stones of the trail, and with each laborious leap up the side, a shower of pebbles rained down behind. 

Lucy didn't have time to comprehend all this. All she knew was that she was in danger and that she was afraid. All she knew was that she must hold on with all she had.

Finally, the trail wound around to the right and leveled off some. Orieus picked up speed and leaned slightly towards the cliff wall, lest in losing his balance while running heedlessly, they both plunge to their dooms. 

Lucy now saw the first signs of green she had seen in what seemed like forever. An early spring green, of tentative grass and slowly unfurling leaves, but far, far below them and shrouded in mist. 

The centaur ate up ground in the relative ease of the present trail. The elevation finally increased again, and Orieus struggled for extra momentum that would aid in this next path's challenge. When they reached level ground again (and far sooner this time), Lucy saw to her horror that the trail ahead had been completely washed out. An enormous mud rift scarred the mountainside, evidence of a recent landslide's fury. A few second's gallop ahead, the path was gone, plunging down hundreds of feet to whatever chasm waited below. The trail resumed twenty feet on, none the worse. Orieus slowed, clearly dismayed. The spring meltdown would be their undoing. 

"Alright," Orieus panted, completely breathless. He spoke very quickly. "We're going to try something. Hold on—." 

"You're going to—?"

"We have no choice!" Orieus bolted towards the gap, faster than before. Lucy leaned in and clung to his midriff, trembling in terror. The second they reached the edge, Orieus propelled himself off with all four legs. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. For what seemed the longest time, they were flying forward and the air was rushing past. Next thing she knew, Lucy felt a sharp jolt. She forced her eyes open. They had made it, but barely. With an audible sigh of relief, she turned to look behind. The other Centaurs were racing single-file along the ledge, towards the gap. They had seen Orieus' leap, but were uncertain of whether they should try it themselves. The nearest of them, a muscular bay bearing a long sword in a sheath at his side, called out loudly: "Orieus, by Aslan, we mean you no harm. Come and at least let us speak!" 

Orieus thought a moment, then finally slowed. None of them were archers, and if the bay (Orieus knew him as "Naron") tried anything, he could turn and run before anything became of it. He carefully brought himself about and trotted to the edge. 

"What have you to say then, Naron?" questioned Orieus guardedly. Lucy shifted, trying to see around her guardian's body. 

Naron panted, out of breath. "We are not trying to harm you…or the queen. Yes, we were originally sent by the White Witch to track you down, but we never intended to follow her orders. We instead used them as an excuse to find and protect you. Let our wounds speak for us. Ridren here had the worst of it: bitten by Maugrim in his final throes."

"Maugrim is dead?!" Orieus asked in disbelief. "You killed him?"

"And his wolves," added Naron. 

"Hmm…," mused Orieus. "If that is true… Swear that this is true in Aslan's name."

"I swear by Aslan," said Naron, "that all I've said is true and that we are here for no other reason than to be of assistance in the queen's escape."

"Very well," said Orieus, relieved. "But now how do you intend to cross over?"

"If you'll wait, we will retrace our steps and proceed down to the lower trail. It will be longer, but we will hurry best we can. Meet us at the crossroads."

"Agreed," said Orieus. "And…thank-you." 


End file.
